#robb stark deserve better

[samieree]

~GENERAL MASTERLIST~

[my works are also avaiable on Ao3: Samiere and on wattpad: _Saelin Also on fanfiction net: Samiere]

Fandoms I write/have written fanfiction/one-shots about:

-> God of War: Ragnarök -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon

List of boys I can write one-shots with: Robb Stark 💗 • Jaime Lannister • Daario Naharis • Arthur Dayne • Daemon Targaryen • Aemond Targaryen • Anakin Skywalker 💗 • Luke Skywalker • Han Solo • Cal Kestis • Din Djarin • Poe Dameron • Kylo Ren • Corrick [Defy the Night] • Heimdall 💗 [God of War: Ragnarök] • Kyle Crane [Dying Light]

[mkstrigidae]

APWH preview snippet!

Since I'm actively trying to work on getting the next few chapters out, I thought I'd share a little future scene with some hints of Jonsa with all you lovely people! This bit is from like, a few chapters in the future bc it's the in-between that's giving me fits right now :) (Fair warning: this is unedited and subject to change! That being said, it's such a fun scene that I can't imagine ever nixing it :D)

“Does he even know that they have to avoid the press?”

“For the last time-“ Sam sighed, sounding completely exasperated, “Dickon knows what they can and can’t do- he’s got enough practice not being photographed from when our dad was the secretary. Not to mention spending time around you when that exposé on your crazy grandfather came out two years ago.”

“I just-“ Jon sighed, blowing a stray curl out of his face. “You didn’t see how freaked out she was when the press caught us at that performance in White Harbor. I thought she was going to have a full-blown panic attack.”

He was immediately derailed by Gilly plopping little Sam down in his lap and shoving a bottle into his hands.

“What’s this all about?” he raised a brow, adjusting the baby on his lap, allowing him to latch onto the cuff of his flannel shirt and start gnawing at the fabric. “You going somewhere?”

Gilly shot him a withering look, but he saw the amusement in her eyes.

“I-“ she gestured, imperiously, “Have not had time by myself to shower all week-“

“Sorry, love.” Sam winced, looking up from his pile of paperwork. “I can take a break from these-“

“Not your fault, Sam.” she waved him off. “You warned me about this conference at the beginning of the summer.” a grin played at the corners of her mouth. “Besides, it works out well- Jon needs a distraction right now from the fact that Sansa’s on a date with your extremely hot and conventionally attractive brother.”

“Hey!” Sam looked wounded, and Gilly rolled her eyes, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“You know you’re my favorite Tarly.” she wrinkled her nose. “How long have you been working on this presentation? You smell like the baby spit up on you.”

“Guess I’m next in line for showers.” Sam said, mournfully. “Unless-“

“Nope- I need my own time right now, Samwell. Did you even hear what I said about why Jon’s bent out of shape?”

Jon had known Gilly since Sam and she had met up north while the two of them were in college. Sometimes, it was hard to reconcile the timid, scared girl she had been with the woman who was currently devoting all of her remaining energy to busting his balls.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about Sansa with my brother.” Sam snorted, shotgunning another cup of coffee next to him the way Jon was used to seeing undergrads do with jaeger shots. “I mean, this is Dickon we’re talking about. Used to bring wounded animals home to take care of them Dickon? The same guy who cried when we had movie night and Gilly and Rhae wanted to go see ‘Love, Simon’?” He shook his head. “Look, as far as guys she could be out on a date with right now go, Dickon’s kind of the best case scenario. She’ll have a nice time, and he’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

Jon blinked at him, silently turning to look up at Gilly, who rolled her eyes and sighed.

“You’re hopeless, sweetie.” she kissed him on the forehead again, wrinkling her nose. “He’s not worried that things will go wrong- he’s worried they’ll go a little too well.”

“You’ve been spending way too much time around my sister.” Jon muttered, narrowly avoiding little Sam’s grasping reach for his glasses, managing to get the baby to latch onto the bottle before he destroyed any more of Jon’s eyewear. “You even sounded like her just then.”

Sam blinked for a second, his head whipping between Jon and Gilly.“You’re jealous?” He asked, incredulously. “Of Dickon? Wait- you like Sansa?”

“Got there in the end.” Gilly sighed, affectionately patting him on the shoulder before going to shower, leaving Jon and Sam behind with four cups of coffee, one baby, and approximately five brain cells total between the two of them.

“You like her.” Sam repeated, like it was a giant revelation.

“What are we- in middle school?” Jon hissed, immediately turning his head down to smile and make faces at little Sam while he fed him, before glaring up at big Sam again. “I don’t- I mean-“

Sam was just shaking his head.“Of course you do.” he laughed. “Should have guessed- red hair and a damsel in distress? You were doomed from the outset.”

“Shut up.” Jon muttered, flushing. “It’s not like that.”

“Then why are you worrying about Dickon for fu-“ Sam glanced nervously at the baby, “-god’s sake? When Gill was meeting my family for the first time, I remember you told her not to worry- that my brother was ‘one of the best guys you know’ and ‘practically a golden retriever’.”

Jon could tell that Sam, who could not raise one eyebrow without the other, was desperately trying to do just that.

“I don’t know.” He muttered, moving little Sam to his shoulder to start burping him. “Look- I’m attracted to her, alright? It’s a fu- er, a giant disaster that I’m gonna ignore for the rest of my life.”

“Seriously?”

“Stop trying to do that with your eyebrows.” Jon complained. “It’s giving me motion sickness. And yes, seriously. I’m not even going to consider that- it’s just a stupid crush. Besides,” he sighed, rubbing little Sam’s back comfortingly, “Robb’s already dealing with enough right now with this whole Sansa situation- can’t imagine telling him I think his sister’s attractive while he’s being forced to suddenly confront all of his guilt and self loathing every time he looks at her.”

“That whole bro code thing of never dating your friend’s sisters never really made sense to me.” Sam shook his head, gulping down more coffee. “I mean, I’d be thrilled if you decided to date Talla, because I know you’d be good to her.”

“Yeah, don't think she'd quite go for that, mate.” Jon snorted, standing to bounce little Sam around gently. He was just grateful Sam hadn’t said anything else about Robb.

“Eh, wouldn’t count you out completely.” Sam shrugged, smirking. “With that hair, you’re pretty enough to be a girl- maybe that’d be enough for her.”

“You are so lucky i’m holding the baby.” Jon muttered, still bouncing little Sam, who picked that moment to spit up spectacularly down Jon’s back.

“Well, that’s three of us who’re gonna need showers now.” Sam grinned, looking thrilled as all get out that it hadn’t been him. “Wow- his aim is getting better.”

“I’m going to remind him of this when he’s a sulky teenager.” Jon grumbled, wiping spit-up off his shoulder as best he could. “Look- no gossiping with Rhae about this, please. She thinks she’s such a good clandestine agent that she doesn’t always realize that Robb is better at sniffing out her plots than she thinks.”

“Alright-“ Sam sighed, looking back down at the massive stack of paperwork in front of him. “I make no promises for Gill, though.”

“Gilly could give some of my Uncle’s colleagues at the WIA a run for their money when it comes to withstanding interrogation.” Jon snorted.

“Probably true.”

“Where did your brother take Sansa?” Still holding onto a now much happier baby with one hand, he reached down the other to take a gulp of his own coffee.

“He said something about going out towards the Tyrell Estate.” Sam shrugged. “They probably drove out there to see the gardens- he’s said it’s a good road to take his bike out on.”

Jon promptly spat out his entire sip of coffee, staining the front of his shirt as well as the back, and frightening little Sam enough that he started to cry.

“He took her on his motorcycle?”

Gilly picked that moment to reappear, completely clean and with wet hair, blinking at the scene in front of her.

Sam, who couldn’t seem to stop laughing, was desperately trying to calm down the baby, who had started wailing, while Jon’s entire front was covered in coffee and his entire back was covered in baby vomit. Not that he seemed to notice, as his face was white and he was making a series of angry looking hand gestures at her husband.

“I really can’t leave you three alone for five minutes, can I?” she sighed. “Do I even want to know?”

[dragonsbone]

━━ and if we don't live forever, maybe one day we'll trade places. darling, you will bury me before i bury you ( insp )

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[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

Individuals I never take seriously: the “Jon deserved to die” discoursers and the “Red Wedding was justified” contrarians. Y’all are never going to be right I fear.

[leesielex]

Magic Awakens | Ch 63: Robb Stark III

Summary: Robb and his brother, Jon Snow, have reached the Wall and are ready to mediate negotiations between the Night's Watch and the Free Folk. They know it won't be an easy task but things are made more difficult when unexpected turns of events take place. Even with a brother with the powers of the Old Gods they learn the can't always predict the future or stop events foreseen from occurring.

A Preview: He awoke feeling as if he hadn’t slept at all, his bones aching and his muscles tight. Jon looked like he fared no better, though the dopey grin on his face betrayed him. “Get a visit in your dreams again, brother?” he asked.

His face dropped and a blush crept up his neck until even his ears were red. “What? Er,” he stuttered before resignation took over. “Aye,” he admitted.

“So what do you do in your dreams that have you blushing like a maid, Jon Snow?” Robb teased him.

The scowl Jon sent him made him burst into laughter. “Oh, so it was that kind of dream then? My, my, with all that honour I wasn’t sure you even knew where to put it, Snow.”

His brother stood and began to dress himself aggressively, his anger rolling off him in waves. “I know where to put it just fine,” he mumbled barely above a whisper.

“Oh, so you admit that is what your dream was about? Or was she dreamwalking, and you two, ya know?” He wagged his eyebrows suggestively. Jon grabbed his furs from his bed and threw them at him, covering his face as he guffawed.

“I didn’t say that. You know I could freeze your face like that if you don’t close that smart mouth of yours, right?” Jon threatened. He had shown him privately the powers he learned to wield while living with the Children of the Forest.

Robb removed the cover and then held his hands up in mock surrender. “Truce, brother. Surely you can forgive me for taking the piss out of you. It had been a while since I had a laugh. I needed it.”

Click here to read full story on AO3

[shalottpress]

Current Projects

A Court of Tangled Flames by Theladyofbloodshed

Hail Mary, Full of Grace and To Help Me Carry On by Pixelfun20

[floatyflowers]

Dark Platonic Mothers! HOTD/GOT (Cersei, Alicent, Sansa, and Rhaenyra) x Reader

Cersei Lannister

"You never love anything in the world the way you love your first child"

You are Cersei's first and only trueborn child with Robert.

Even though, your mother hates your father, doesn't mean you are hated, it is quiet the opposite.

Cersei would sacrifice everything to ensure that you stay by her side.

She would fight off any possible arranged marriages that Robert might have in mind for you.

Marrying you to Robb Stark? Cersei will make sure that Robert has horrible nights, until he removes this idea from his mind.

Joffrey doesn't dare to harm you in any way, because he knows what his mother would do to him if he touches a hair on your head.

After your younger siblings' deaths, Cersei becomes filled with paranoia that she might outlive you too.

She will make sure that you are kept safe even if it means stripping you away from your freedom.

Alicent Hightower

You are her favorite child without a doubt.

Maybe it is because you are not as drunk and perverted as Aegon or as vengeful and dangerous as Aemond or as dreamy and strange as Helaena.

Of course, there is also Daeron but he is in Oldtown, so he is not around as much for Alicent to favor him.

As a baby, you never caused tantrums when she came to spend time with you.

You consider her your friend, and tell her all your secrets.

Even that secret where you had a crush on a stable boy.

Strange how the boy disappeared the next day with a trance.

When Otto suggested the idea of marrying you off to Tyland Lannister, Alicent turned the idea down.

She would never give up your happiness, she would kill for your sake.

Sansa Stark

You are hers and Ramsay's daughter.

But you were given her last name, as Sansa didn't want you to be connected to the Boltons.

She thought she would hate you, but when she held you in her arms for the first time, she couldn't help but love you.

Like a little pup, you started following your mother around ever since you learned how to walk.

Sansa prefers it that way, you and her spending time together.

You filled the hole in her heart after her mother's death, she wants to have the same mother-daughter relationship with you as she had with her mother.

Everything was going on well, until Arya decided to visit Winterfall.

The moment your Aunt started speaking about her travels is the moment you realize you want to explore the outside world.

Sansa made sure that her younger sister is not welcome to speak to you again, especially after she accused her of locking you away like some bird.

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Your mother turned into a completely different person after the death of your younger brother, Luke.

She announced the annulment of your marriage to Aemond, even though it was already consummated.

She has forbidden you from returning to King's Landing to get your daughter, claiming it was too dangerous for you, and that your daughter is better off with her father.

Rhaenyra can't bear to lose you just like how she lost Luke or Visenya.

When you try to escape, you are caught and your dragon is taken away from you, given sleeping herbs to put the beast to sleep.

When you called her a hypocrite for wanting to protect you as a mother, but at the same time, forbidding you from seeing your own daughter.

Rhaenyra would only hug you tightly and forcibly by grabbing into your head.

"You have to sacrifice for me, just like I sacrificed for you and your siblings"

This is when you realize that your mother truly deserves to be compared to Maegor the Cruel.

[eviesaurusrex]

“ʟᴀᴅʏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ.” | ʀ. ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ

Not my GIFs!

Robb Stark x Tyrell!Reader

summary: A request for something fluff with Robb Stark!

word counts: 1.8k

warnings: kind of protective!Robb, fluff, more fluff, first-time pregnancy, a bit of angst, but really just a hint

author’s note: I’m really happy about my first request (and work) for Robb because he was my first GoT love :D But I’m not really happy with how this one turned out, so I am really sorry. The next one hopefully will get better! Edit: I just saw that tumblr messed up with my writing, so I edited it!

The puffing breaths of the black horse condensated in the cold air around her, the sound of heavy hooves sinking into the soft ground of the forest floor was the only sound echoing through the tall-growing trees around Winterfell. It was always peaceful out here, which was such a stark contrast to the busyness within the walls of the castle that YN loved to escape from time to time. She loved her life up here, as Lady of Winterfell, far from her former home where she was as useless as a pretty bush of roses.

Growing up in Highgarden, down in the Reach, had been pleasant but never fulfilling. As the eldest daughter of Lord Mace Tyrell and younger sister to Willas Tyrell, her father’s heir, she had nothing else to do but marry an old, lazy lord and continue and secure his unsuccessful lineage. Her father never had a high aim for his eldest daughter, even though her grandmother Olenna always had a greater future planned for the Golden Rose of Highgarden—in her grandmother’s eyes, she had been the perfect match for a king or prince. Olenna never wanted to waste her precious granddaughter to a low lord as her imbecile of a son had in mind. Instead, the Queen of Thorns had managed to secure an alliance with the North, and the match had been, luckily, a love match. It had taken time, but the instant sympathy and attraction from both had been a reliable support for a blossoming romance.

It certainly had helped that YN was quite fond of the winter and cold.

The sudden sound of heavy paws ripped the woman back into reality, and turning in her saddle, her eyes almost immediately spotted the dark grey dire wolf prowling through the forest, his bright eyes trained on her. Smiling, YN whistled softly, and Grey Wind trotted over the small path and sided with her on their slow way back to the castle.

Riding through the gates, the Lady of Winterfell was greeted with respectfully bowed heads by the guards while some of the children waved before getting ushered back to their tasks. Hullen, the master of horse, exited the stables at the sight of his returning lady and walked over to the courtyard. His left hand grabbed for the reins while he extended his right to YN to help her down, but he thought it through and pulled his hand back again. He knew that his lady was more than capable of getting off the horse herself. YN slid off the saddle and down onto the hard ground. “Thank you, Hullen. Treat him with the biggest apple you can find—he deserves it,” the woman smiled while patting the strong neck of her beautiful stallion Robb had gifted her shortly after their wedding. Aden had been her trustworthy companion on her rides ever since.

“Of course, m’lady,” the master of horse said, bowed his head, and led the horse back to the stables. Meanwhile, YN turned around to see Robb striding towards her, the dark fur on his cloak framing his handsome face, his dark curls still a tad tussled from their escapades a few hours prior. Smiling, the former Tyrell waited patiently until he reached her—strong hands enveloping her frame beneath the black cloak she had thrown over earlier, their faces only mere inches apart. “Wife,” he whispered in a greeting before nuzzling his nose against hers. “Husband,” YN returned, smile still on her lips, while her glove-clad fingers tangled themselves in his brown curls.

Softly and lovingly, the eldest Stark son pressed his lips to hers, and YN sighed deeply at the familiar feeling of his kisses, which still ignited a fire in her body, unlike anything she had ever felt in her life. Kissing Robb was always thrilling, always on the brink of satisfaction, and it always made her feel loved and cherished. YN really was grateful for her grandmother’s plans for her very person.

“I was worried,” the Stark mumbled against his wife’s lips before distancing himself a bit to intently eye her face. “Grey Wind was a great companion on our way home.” Robb smiled at her words but soon turned serious again. “You did not overdo it, love?” Softly, YN shook her head while her thumb caressed his cheek tenderly. “We were perfectly safe,” she promised in a whisper and laughed under her breath as the strong, serious man sighed deeply and let his hand rest on her lower stomach where a slight curve had made its appearance several weeks ago—and which kept growing steadily. “I only want you two safe and sound.”

Instead of saying something, YN pulled Robb down at his neck and kissed him with all she had, while his hand kept laying atop his first, still unborn, child.

With pleased looks on their faces stood Catelyn and Ned at the railing circling the walls of Winterfell and watched their firstborn son and first daughter-in-law. “I cannot remember seeing him this happy,” the mother mumbled while Ned held her close. “I am sure he wasn’t before she stepped into his life and turned everything upside down. I know this feeling all too well.” Catelyn looked up to her husband and smiled. “Sometimes it is good to rearrange one’s reality. It certainly didn’t harm Robb.” Ned laughed deep in his chest. “No, it definitely did not. Quite the opposite. Are you happy, Cat?” At her husband’s question, Catelyn looked up again and nodded. “I am. She is perfect for him, he is perfect for her. They await their firstborn, Maester Luwin thinks it will be a pleasant pregnancy judging by the signs so far. My son is happy, and that is all a mother can hope for.”

;

The sound of cracking wood in the grand fireplace accompanied YN in her endeavors to rise from the furred and soft chairs in front of the warm fire in their bedchambers. Suddenly, the door got opened, and Robb entered their room; the sight of his struggling wife pushed a smile on his lips. He closed the door behind him and walked over to her. “You know I can help you with that, love?” His teasing voice tickled a groan out of her, and the pregnant woman gave her attempts up. “This is nothing to laugh about. I’m not even halfway through this pregnancy and already struggling with the easiest tasks—getting out of this bloody chair on my own, for one instance,” she grumbled, and the Stark laughed lightly under his breath before kneeling down in front of his wife.

“I love you,” he told her with the most serious expression. “I love you both.” And with that, Robb bent his head and pressed a lingering kiss on her ever-growing stomach. Her fingers instantly tangled themselves in his soft brown strands, and a smile full of contentment stretched across her lips. “You are lucky you are the most loving husband in all of the Seven Kingdoms. If not, I would have chased you away a long time ago.” Robb grinned up to her and leaned his face further into her hand, which caressed his cheek, his soft beard tickling her skin. “I must be really lucky then,” he mumbled before spreading her legs and pulling his wife to the edge of the chair.

She gasped for air and rested her arms around his neck as Robb held her close and raised to his feet with her in his arms. The man carried her to the fur-covered bed and lowered her onto the soft mattress. “We have a family gathering to attend,” YN reminded the lord, but Robb only climbed over her and situated himself in the furs, pulling her body closer to his by her waist. “They will not die if we miss one dinner.” Her skin muffled his voice as he littered her throat with soft kisses before she pulled his face up.

They stared into each other’s eyes, the blissful atmosphere seeping into every corner of the room, and their body relaxed even more. YN let the tip of her nose brush against his, and Robb sighed, turning into the soft man he always was around his wife.

It still amazed him how his life had turned ever since the Golden Rose of Highgarden had entered it. Before the fateful day of her arrival, Robb Stark had only lived for his family and duty as the firstborn son of Ned Stark and future Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. He had held objections against marriage as both parents had reached out to him with the suggestion of finding and taking a wife as future Lady of Winterfell. He had never shown any interest in the daughters of the northern houses, and as his mother came to him with a letter from the Reach, he had been… intrigued but still unsure if he was ready to be a husband. But his mother and Lady Olenna had arranged a meeting halfway through the realm, and Robb must’ve been blind if he didn’t feel the attraction towards the woman now lying safely in his arms.

The thought of her in another man’s arms alone made his blood boil, and instantly, his arms enveloped her closer and pulled the woman closer and closer.

“Are you happy?”

Robb’s unsure voice pulled YN out of the daze she had fallen in while almost drowning in his dark, kind eyes, and her brows furrowed tremendously. “Do I seem unhappy? Not content?” She asked in return, now unsure herself. YN never wanted to make the impression of being unhappy up in the north, or as if she wanted to return home to the south, back to the warmth, because quite the opposite was the case. In the four years since their small wedding ceremony in the Godswoods, YN recalled not one single day filled with longing thoughts for her former home.

The Stark barely shrugged and propped himself up on one arm, looming now over her. His other hand softly caressed the soft strands of her hair spreading over the pillows. “I suppose no one ever asked you if you want to be dragged up here in the cold north. A place without the lush gardens of Highgarden, always cold and icy…-“ But YN pressed her finger against his lips to silence him. “Robb,” she whispered tenderly, grabbing his chin in her fingers and stroking over his beard with her thumb. “Do you really believe I would still be here if I were unhappy? That I would have married you and vowed my love in front of your family, in front of the gods?” Robb looked helpless as he shrugged again, and YN smiled up at him while taking his hand from her face and letting it rest on her stomach. “I would not be carrying your child if I wasn’t happy with you in the cold north, with you by my side. I was never this content in my life than here in Winterfell.” A soft grin graced her lips, and Robb sighed, clearly put at ease. “I don’t know where those thoughts came from. Sometimes the things Theon says about you are getting to my head,” the Stark tried to explain himself, but YN only shook her head. “It is all right, my love. And specifically for your mind: You are making me the happiest woman in all of Westeros.”

;

This got really shitty, and I’m super unhappy with it, but the ideas didn’t want to come for another piece, so I went with this one. I’m sorry for even uploading it xD As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated! Thanks for reading <3

[2braincellslz]

My Queen

Ship: Fem!reader x Robb Stark

Desc: the new Targaryen Queen replaces the evil queen Cersei Lannister. Her White Wolf gushes over her.

Notes: so this was a request but I fucked up and lost it lol. Also not my favorite, it's very short, but I'm really excited to write for Robb. Also idk shit about the Targaryen house, I'm better suited for the Ironborn and the Starks but I still tried. Also dont know about about the iron throne and I have yet to read asoiaf. Sorry.

Warnings: implied violence, not prof read.

(Y/n) didnt think she would make it this far. Hell, she didnt even think she would make it half way. It didnt seem real, standing infront of the long sout after goal. How could something so many people died for just be sitting right in front of her.

She steped forward, reaching out and feeling the throne. It was cool, cold, stone cold. She ran her finger across the dull edge of one of the swords, only stopping for a moment at the broken chips.

(Y/n) remembered when she was young, growing up with her siblings Danni and Viserys. She learned more about the throne then her siblings. She lerned about the importance of each and every one of them. She even knew some of them by name.

"The guards are taken care of." A voice, one of comfort, snapped (y/n) out of her thoughts.

"Thank you." The words were simple but they got the point across.

"It's so... so..." (y/n) smiled, looking over her shoulder. "It dosnt feel real."

"I was just thinking that." Her finger traced one of the carvings in a sword. "Come here, my wolf." (Y/n) held out her hand.

A callused hand intertwined (y/n)'s.

"Do you remember all the storys I've told you about the iron throne?" (Y/n)  asked, she felt Robb's thumb rubbing over the back of her hand.

"How could I forget? You tell me a new one every night." She could feel Robbs apprehensiveness.

"Here." (Y/n)  led Robb closer to the throne, moving his hand closer to the throne. "This one, the one with the engravings, this one has always been my favorite."

She led Robb's hand across the engraving. "Its special."

Robb slowly but surely let (Y/n) lead him. He glanced over at (y/n), the delicate yet dangerous look in her eye only made his heart throb more.

"Theres no real meaning to it. No important warrior. Its just...  pretty."

"Pretty." Robb repeated, not even looking at the sword anymore.

(Y/n) looked up from the sword, letting out a soft giggle. "You arnt even looking at the sword."

Robb's smile was soft, he was growing in a beard. It suited his face well but (y/n) was ready for her cleaned up prince back.

"My darling and Queen." Robb hummed, taking her other hand. "You are stunning tonight."

"You are so..." (y/n) huffed. Her head was all messed up, sweaty and worn out. Fighting a war, especially in the capital, was impossibly hard. She wasnt one to just stand back and let her men fight for her.

"Please, you deserve a rest." Robb led (y/n) to the throne.

(Y/n) sat back, leaning in to the throne. It wasnt exactly comfortable but it was powerful. It felt right. It felt like home. The hall was home and this throne was home. Her life and goal.

But nothing was as important as her husband.

"You look perfect." Robb kneeled in front of (y/n). He took his sword out of his sheath, placing it infront of her feet.

"My Queen. My lovey Queen. I am but your humble servant." Robb poured his heart out, words coming out before he could think them over. "Please let me and my men serve you."

"Oh my white wolf." (Y/n) hummed, pulling Robb closer to her. "You are more then a servant." (Y/n) stood up, holding Robbs face. "You are my prince and my knight."

Robbs hands found there way to (y/n)'s waist.

"My queen."

[samieree]

Dawn of the North || Robb Stark

Robb Stark x OC

As the War of the Five Kings rages in Westeros, in the far north beyond the Wall, young princess of a forgotten kingdom will finally have the opportunity to break free from her father's watchful eye and try to live her own life.

When there are reports of Daenerys Targaryen, who is already making plans to claim the throne of the Seven Kingdoms, Amalthea's father asks her to find her cousin. However, there is more to this request than a desire to reunite the family.

However, before that happens, after leaving the fairy-tale kingdom of Acalida, Amalthea travels south, where after so many years of peaceful life, she collides with the brutal reality of the Seven Kingdoms. As soon as the voice of her heart speaks to her, she will have to pull herself together and show the other part of her character - reasonable, objective, cunning... And sometimes a bit mad and merciless to fit in a world full of intrigue and not lose her life.

And as a Queen from unknown lands... She will have to earn respect and trust of others.

Introduction + Prologue

Introduction:

Amalthea (Amy) Targaryen.

The princess of the kingdom behind the wall, Acalida.

Daughter of the local king Lored Targaryen (younger brother of Aerys II "Mad King" Targaryen) and Queen Umya (from the far east of Essos).

The eldest of the siblings, she has a sister and a brother - twins, ten years younger than her.

Until she had a younger brother, she was raised to be the next queen of the kingdom behind the wall and taught everything necessary to take that role.

So far, it seems that the title of "princess" is the most she can count on, but everything can change when she is allowed to go beyond the borders of her family kingdom…

Prologue:

She stopped crying for her friends a long time ago. So now, as she stood on the balcony and looked out at the courtyard, the snow slowly covering her very fair hair, she showed no emotion. Once she would have struggled, screamed, begging her father for mercy for her friend, but it never worked. Crying was all the more pointless, Lored only saw his daughter's weakness that way.

Therefore, she stood impassively, watching as the executioner beheaded her last friend, who was looking at her with a clear plea in his eyes. But she didn't do anything, didn't try to interrupt. When it was over, she simply turned around and walked back into her chamber, shedding her cloak.

Was it such a crime that she wanted to feel loved by someone the way a man loves a woman and to give someone her love?

Her father cared too much for her virtue, the only living friends she had were women. With time, she even began to cut herself off from male friends, so as not to accidentally expose any of them to death.

“Princess…” The maid wanted to undo her hair, but Amalthea only showed that she didn’t want it and started to leave.

“I'm going to see Istra.” She just said and left, closing the door behind her. She quickly made her way down the corridors and stairs. She went out into the courtyard, where her friend, who was practically like a sister to her, flew in soon. The dragon landed on the edge of the castle wall and leaned towards Amalthea.

They had grown up together, like her father and his dragon before. When Amy turned three, she already had an egg in her room, which eventually hatched into a small, dark dragon. They spent their lives together, although the girl still had her father's words in the back of her mind: “The dragon will always be wild, no matter how long you are with him”, but she didn’t want to remember those words. She didn't want to believe that Istra would be able to hurt her.

“Do you mind some flying?” She asked her, and only in response, the dragon put a wing near the girl, on which she could climb on her back. She had to admit that the dragon had grown much bigger than herself. But what did she really expect?

As soon as the girl grabbed the spikes on its back and leaned slightly, the dragon bounced off the ground and, waving its wings, moved towards the city walls (and it is worth mentioning that there were three of these walls due to the safety of the kingdom in the far north), behind which flew. It was nothing new that the land was all covered with snow, and the landscape didn’t change much throughout the year. However, there was something about floating freely in the sky and having everything under you. And to think that one word would be enough to set it all on fire...

A long way from the borders of the kingdom, they stopped for a moment, landing on one of the smaller mountains to be able to look at the landscape stretching below them in peace. Amalthea even descended for a moment and walked to the edge of the mountain to get a better look at it, feeling the snow crunch under her feet. The weather was even pleasant, it wasn't windy - and above all, there was no blizzard... - and the sun wasn't even covered by many clouds.

However, this weather made it possible to see long distances, which was not always good...

Looking out into the distance, Amalthea could clearly see a large group of surely not wildlings walking through the valley. It was something else... Their steps were slow, she couldn't see the tattered clothes and skinless skeletons from this distance.

“Istra, come…” She wasn't sure if she wanted to know who they were, but curiosity often got the better of her, and it was the same this time as well.

She perched herself back on the dragon's back, and it sprang down from above, spreading its wings. Soaring not very high above the ground, they were getting closer and closer to these strange creatures. The girl leaned out a little, only now being able to notice that these people should have been dead for a long time. She had heard of the undead several times, but even on her solo flights, she had never encountered them. When you were so close to them, it seemed almost impossible to count them all. The more so that they began to struggle at the sight of a potential threat.

“We have to go home…” She said quietly, and the dragon not only changed the direction of flight, but also increased it.

She had to return to the palace as soon as possible and tell her father what she had seen. Even if it means forbidding her to leave the kingdom's walls.

~

-> Chapter I "Family" -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

[dragonsfromthemoon]

Once again thinking about how Jon and Daenerys are meant to be, in every sense of the word.

At their core, they are both characters who desire home — a place where they belong, where they are loved and love back. A place where they can have a family and do not feel lonely anymore.

Their journeys, extensively paralleled on the books, speak of heroism. They try to make their world better. It is interesting, because making the world better requires facing directly the legacy of their forebears. Daenerys starts an anti-slavery campaign with ripples throughout the whole continent of Essos; her dragons mean hope and freedom, while the Valyrians of old used their power to build an empire based on slavery. Jon spends time among the Free Folk and learns a lot with them; he sees them as people that also deserved to be protected against the threat of the Others, while his Stark ancestors have fought the Free Folk for thousands of years and were only to happy to have they beyond the Wall.

A queen belongs to her people; you will take no pleasure in your command. They face the hardships of ruling, and in their storylines, George R. R. Martin is exploring what takes to be a good leader. He is exploring his famous question about Aragorn's tax policy: you are a ruler? Good. What do you do for your people, especially in times of need? When they meet, they will realize they are not alone; that someone finally understands the burden and how lonely and hard it is to rule. They will bond over sharing their experiences and over making plans for the future.

No one in-universe ever expected a girl and a bastard boy to have the destiny of their world upon their shoulders. Yet, here they are. Both of they are linked to propechies and visions about fighting the Others. Jon has since the first book, AGoT, known about the threat and faced it directly: his power as a talented warg, inputs, know-how and command will be essential to defeat the Others. Daenerys has three dragons with her, perhaps the biggest asset the living will have in the War for the Dawn.

In this sense, we can not only their political union makes sense, but their magical one too. They will both be heads of the dragon, the fire against the ice of the Others. They will need each other to win this fight.

For that, their meeting will be one of equals. A queen and a king. Two young, but very mature and experienced people. They have loved, fought, risen to power, been betrayed before... all kinds of things, a whole lifetime on the table, despite of their young ages. As Melisandre [Jon VI, ADwD] says: "The Lord of Light in his wisdom made us male and female, two parts of a greater whole. In our joining there is power. Power to make life. Power to make light. Power to cast shadows."

The last scions of House Targaryen meeting to work together. A kind of irony of the destiny, for in the Dance, it was argued a woman (Rhaenyra) could not rule,“bastards” “soiled” the royal lineage and should not be included in the line to inherit (Rhaenyra's sons). Yet that's all that remains of the Targaryens now: a girl and a boy with a bastard's name. And they will unite to face the threat said to have been foreseen by Aegon in a prophecy.

I dare say their bond and love already exist, even if they are yet to meet. That's why Dany dreams about a shadow lover, sees a blue flower in a wall in her bride of fire prophecy. That's why Dany hears a wolf howl after Jon dies, and feels sad and lonely. For Jon, a dragon or three might warm things up. In his first ADwD chapter, the moon is running with him, whispering to him, accompanying him. The moon kisses him.

Last but not least, Alan Taylor's words:

[Martin] just sort of mentioned in passing, 'Oh well it's all about Dany and Jon Snow,'" Taylor said. "And at the time I thought, 'Really? I thought it was about Sean Bean and Robb Stark?'"

"But [Martin] knew from the very beginning where he was driving and now we're starting to see that come to fruition," Taylor said. "We know that it's circling tighter and tighter on Dany and Jon and their partnership is starting to form, you know, 'fire and ice.'"

What GRRM mentioned to Alan Taylor still rings true for the books, for in ADWD, we can see many characters moving either Dany's or Jon's way. Their meeting will wrap up that and symbolise the beginning of their story together.

[house-of-daenerys]

Robb Stark & Jon Snow by Denis Maznev

[agentrouka-blog]

Tywin is so dumb that after naming the Boltons wardens of the North and giving them Winterfell he thought they would back away when Tyrion got pregunta Sansa and she gave birth to a Lannister and Stark baby to claim WF and the North.

I don't think he expected them to back away so much as he expected them to be ground to fine powder fighting the ironborn and the Northmen who hated them.

We shall allow the Dreadfort to fight the ironborn for a few years, and see if he can bring Stark's other bannermen to heel. Come spring, all of them should be at the end of their strength and ready to bend the knee. The north will go to your son by Sansa Stark . . . (ASOS, Tyrion IV)

Tywin very much expected the Boltons to fail in the longterm.

The Red Wedding was calculated to both destroy Robb's army and destroy the reputation of the immediate perpetrators. It taints Houses Frey and Bolton both, meaning they will have a hard time being accepted in the North or Riverlands, outside, of course, the Lannister-Freys attached to Genna, who were with the Lannisters from the beginning. The clean and innocent Lannisters!

"These sparrows are especially outspoken," warned Qyburn. "The Red Wedding was an affront to all the laws of gods and men, they say, and those who had a hand in it are damned." Cersei was not slow to take his meaning. "Lord Walder must soon face the Father's judgment. He is very old. Let the sparrows spit upon his memory. It has nought to do with us." (AFFC, Cersei IV)

It's not just propaganda, either. You can already see Jaime distancing House Lannister from the Red Wedding in his own head, in AFFC:

"No more than I want Joy to marry the son of some scheming turncloak bitch. She deserves better." Jaime would happily have strangled the woman with her seashell necklace. Joy was a sweet child, albeit a lonely one; her father had been Jaime's favorite uncle. "Your daughter is worth ten of you, my lady. You'll leave with Edmure and Ser Forley on the morrow. Until then, you would do well to stay out of my sight." He shouted for a guardsman, and Lady Sybell went off with her lips pressed primly together. Jaime had to wonder how much Lord Gawen knew about his wife's scheming. How much do we men ever know? (AFFC, Jaime VII)

He's acting like Sybell had more influence over this enormity than Tywin did. The abject hypocrisy, the screaming self-righteousnss.

But no doubt this is how they would have presented themselves to the Northmen come spring. Honorable former enemies who come bearing a legitimate Stark descendent. Not like those traitorous Boltons with their fake Arya.

[in-my-feels-probably]

Hey if you don't mind could you please do a robb stark x reader? Idk how but maybe they survive the Red Wedding and she feels anxious about everything and leading robb to express his trauma and then it's just them comforting each other

- thank you <3

Whatever May Come

Request: Hey if you don't mind could you please do a robb stark x reader? Idk how but maybe they survive the Red Wedding and she feels anxious about everything and leading robb to express his trauma and then it's just them comforting each other

Hi! I’m so sorry it took so long to get to this, thank you for being patient. Thank you for the request, this is my first time writing for Robb. To make sense of the story a little bit, the reader is a Tyrell. Her sister is Margaery and her grandmother is Olenna. Also, I’m referencing the Vale in this fic, please pretend that it’s close to Riverrun.

Also, I wrote out Talisa for this request, obviously. She’s replaced by the reader, but the reader isn’t pregnant. She and Robb get hurt, but escape. The rest of the events still unfold as seen in the show, but Robb survives and escapes before the end. Also, I know Arya was there when everything happened, but I’m not writing her in either so I can just focus on the request.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

(Warnings: swearing, death, blood and gore, weapons, guilt and trauma, slight mentions and allusions to sex, let me know if i missed anything)

—

You had grown up in Highgarden, with your sister Margaery. On Robb’s sixteenth nameday, he was informed of your Father’s and his father’s plans to eventually wed you both. You had met a few times before, when your Father would bring you along to the feasts at Winterfell. 

The North did not have many allies. They were an independent nation, content to govern themselves. But just as the Tully’s swore fealty to the Starks, resulting in Catelyn’s betrothal to Ned, the Tyrells did the same. 

As the second born daughter, and third child overall to the Tyrell family, your position was not as highly valued as your siblings. Loras was a knight, revered around the realm for his charm and skill in combat. Margaery was cunning and beautiful, sure to make for a lucky match with any deserving Lord of the realm. They were both destined for greatness.

You, however, didn’t have a fate as secure. Sure, your dowry was sizable, and your family valued. But you had no real promise for climbing the ladder. You’d eventually be the wife of a respectable Lord, and Mother to his children. It wasn’t a fate you wanted, but you endured it all the same. 

Robb would be Lord of Winterfell one day, and Warden of the North. Your Father had a soft spot for you, and wanted you to be happy, and marry well. Luckily, Ned had a respect for your House, and approved of you enough to court you with his son. He requested that you come to stay with his family, so he could see whether or not you were the right fit for marrying into his family.

You were sent from your home to Winterfell, arriving on Robb’s name day. 

You were scared, dreading the life ahead of you that you had been sold into. You hadn’t seen Robb in years, unable to make it to an annual feast since the two of you were mere children. 

But Robb was the perfect gentleman, instantly easing your fears the moment he greeted you at the gate with his father, a kind smile on his face. 

You instantly clicked, becoming best friends. Neither of your families ever confirmed it, but you both knew that one day, you’d be promised to each other forever. It was like a dream come true. You couldn’t have asked for better.

It turned into a nightmare the day Winterfell received word that Ned had been arrested on charges of treason, and would be sentenced to death. In just a few days, Lords from all over the realm sworn to House Stark flocked to support their new King, effectively bringing everyone into an all out war. 

Robb refused to let you come with him, wanting you and his mother safe and out of harm’s way. You and Catelyn had other plans, eventually leaving Winterfell and joining Robb in the fight. 

In the midst of a war, as the proclaimed King in the North, Robb was responsible for the planning and executing of battle strategies. He knew his enemies were strong, relentless, and viewed as invincible by the common people. 

If he could take Casterly Rock, it would prove to the people that Tywin Lannister was not as strong as he seemed, and that the North had a good chance of winning the war. In order to take Casterly Rock, Robb would have to march his army through the Twins, a piece of land owned by Walder Frey. 

In the chaos of battle after battle and the constant moving of camps, you and Robb had nearly forgotten your family’s plans of marrying you to each other. 

That is until Lord Frey asked Robb to marry one of his daughters, in exchange for passage through his land and the use of his men. 

You told Robb to agree to it. If it came down to choosing you, or choosing his men, you wanted him to choose his men. If it meant that he would win the war with the least amount of casualties on your side, it was the only option he had, at least in your mind. You loved Robb, that was clear to anyone who took more than a second to watch the pair of you together. But you’d settle for being a mistress, or go so far as to give him up entirely, if it meant keeping him alive. He had to win. 

Even if he had to do it without you.

As infuriating as it could be at times, Robb was an honorable man. He would not marry a woman if his heart belonged to another, and he refused to give you up. 

You had told him it was a stupid idea. But no amount of trying to convince him would change his mind once it was set. He was one of the most stubborn men you had ever met, and you knew it wasn’t worth wasting more breath arguing over. You were married in a small ceremony, after Robb decided he couldn’t wait any longer to be with you. 

Every day, he woke up and risked his life for a cause much bigger than himself. He told you that he couldn’t go on, knowing that he wasn’t savoring everything he held dear to him. He wouldn’t take you for granted for another day, not when each day could be his last.

Even his mother agreed, finally approving the match and allowing you to marry.

Afterwards, there was still the matter of Walder Frey, and Robb’s promise to him.

As a compromise, Lord Frey agreed to marry Robb’s uncle, Edmure, to one of his daughters, in exchange for passage through his land. Robb kept his promise, and convinced his uncle to marry one of the daughters.

You attended a celebration, in honor of Edmure and his betrothed. 

Lord Frey allowed you into his home, extending his hospitality to you and the Northmen. Robb gave his apologies to Lord Frey, his daughters, and his granddaughters. You gave your apologies for your part in it as well. It was dismissed as water under the bridge, and the festivities continued. 

That night, while the men made camp outside, a small group of you attended the wedding. 

You stood beside Robb during the ceremony, watching as Lord Frey led his daughter down the aisle, where Edmure anxiously waited at the end. When the bride reached the end of the aisle, her father removed her veil, revealing his daughter to the room.

You let out a quiet gasp, and Robb turned to you, whispering in your ear. 

“What is it?”

“She’s beautiful,” you said, keeping your eyes on her. “You may have missed an opportunity here, I regret to admit.”

Robb fought a smile, returning his gaze to the betrothed. “Don’t be daft. You’re the most beautiful woman in this room, and you know it.”

You felt the heat creep up to your cheeks, ever so slightly shaking your head.

“Hush. Pay attention.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice. “Yes, My Queen. As you command.”

—

After the ceremony, the festivities were moved into the banquet hall. Men lined the banisters overhead, playing tunes for the guests. People laughed, danced, and chattered while the servants came around with ale. A group in the middle had taken to dancing, or for a more accurate phrase, stumbling around drunk. 

Robb laughed as he watched them, making you smile. The war had kept his smile from him for so long, it had been ages since you'd seen it or heard him laugh.

Somewhere throughout the night, Lord Edmure and his new bride had been whisked away for the bedding ceremony, a sight that you rolled your eyes at.

“It’s tradition,” Robb said, grabbing your hand in his.

“A barbaric tradition. As if it isn’t already a humiliating enough experience for a girl to be with a man for the first time. Now she’ll have half of the party in there, drunk and watching.”

Robb smiled softly at you as you spoke, squeezing your hand. “I couldn’t say no, darling. Lord Frey is already quite cross with me, we have to give him his little joys. My Uncle and Lady Frey were smiling, it isn’t as if I’ve forced them to do anything they don’t want to do.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you said, smiling back. “It doesn’t make it any less of a stupid tradition. I pity her.”

“Oh, what would you know? You didn’t have to do it,” he teased, grinning.

“And you were all the luckier for it. I wouldn’t have been as nice as I was, which if I recall correctly, you seemed to very much enjoy. You’d have left our chambers taking a few drunk Lords to the Maester and returned to a locked door. I do hope he knows how to properly heal broken noses.”

Robb let out a chuckle at your words, warming your heart at the sound of it. “Lucky I forbade it then, aren’t I? Saved a few people from a bloody evening.”

“And yourself from a rather unfortunate one, as well. I’d count us both lucky, Your Grace,” you teased back, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand.

The night continued on, the festivities still lively. Across the hall, Lady Catelyn was sitting with her uncle and Lord Bolton. A servant came over to fill their cups, when Lord Bolton abstained. 

You raised a brow, listening in on his words as best you could.

“I never drink, My Lady. It dulls the senses.”

“That’s the point,” the Blackfish said, standing to find a bathroom. 

You watched the path he took to walk out, stilling in your chair when you noticed that the hall doors had been shut just as he left. It was a wedding and a feast, people should have been able to come and go as they pleased. Why would the doors be shut? Lady Catelyn seemed to notice as well, standing up as a few stray men in armor entered the room.

The men on the balcony played a solemn tune, one you recognized to be The Rains of Castamere. 

You were not an idiot. You had heard that song before, you knew its origins. Your Grandmother, the Lady Olenna of House Tyrell, raised you and your sister well. She taught you to pay attention to every detail, and to never walk into a room without knowing every crevice of it. You had learned from the best. And you knew something was wrong. 

Lady Catelyn knew it, too.

You turned to your husband, grabbing his arm. “Robb–”

“Your Grace,” Lord Frey interrupted, standing up and silencing the room.

Robb stood up, walking to stand in front of Lord Frey’s table at the front of the room. You slowly and quietly backed your chair away from the table while everyone took their seats, giving yourself room to stand quickly. You tried to ignore the pit in your stomach, but it wouldn’t let you ignore it. Trusting your instincts, you slowly reached for your boot, where you kept a dagger inconspicuously strapped to it. 

That was another thing your Grandmother taught you. To always be prepared, to be one step ahead, and to always be the one to surprise.

“I feel I’ve been remiss, in my duties,” Lord Frey said, eyes on Robb. “I’ve given you meat and wine and music…but I haven’t shown you the hospitality you deserve. My King has married and I owe my new Queen a wedding gift.”

“Robb!” Catelyn suddenly called out, slapping Lord Bolton across the face, who bolted across the room the second he could get free. 

Robb turned just in time to see one of Walder Frey’s soldiers, coming at you with a dagger. Just as you felt a hand grab your shoulder and a sharp blade graze your throat, you dislodged the dagger from your boot, spinning around and plunging it into your attacker’s throat.

Robb moved to rush to you, but one of the men on the balcony shot an arrow at him, sticking him in the shoulder. He let out a groan, stumbling back. Across the room, his mother had been shot as well.

“No!” You screamed, diving to the floor as arrows began to fly, massacring the Northmen inside. 

Robb had been struck with another arrow, sending him tumbling to the ground. You grasped for him, hooking your arms under his and straining to pull him as close to you as you could. Shielded partially by the table, you held your blade’s hilt between your teeth, checking Robb’s wounds. He was bleeding, but luckily was still conscious, just in shock. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, dazed.

“Quiet,” you whispered, hushed. “I’m getting us out of here.”

Screams echoed throughout the hall, and you shielded Robb as men scrambled to get free. Chaos erupted around you, all while Walder Frey sat at his table, his goblet raised. 

You scanned around the room, looking for your best way out. You pulled Robb up, snapping the ends of the arrows off. If you pulled them out, he could bleed out. It was easier this way, and he’d make it long enough to be treated. He groaned in pain, tears brimming in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, cradling his face. “You have to help me. You have to stand up. We just have to get to that corridor, it’s unmanned. Walder’s son was guarding it earlier, he isn’t there anymore. Robb, please. I can’t do this without you.”

“Mother,” he whispered, leaning up. “Where is she?”

You looked around, spotting her under a table. She had pulled an arrow from her back, and was reaching for the blade of a dead man on the floor. Suddenly, she was grasped by her hair and pulled out from under the table.

“No–”

You covered Robb’s mouth with your hand, willing him to be quiet. “If they see us, we’ll both die. I can’t let you die, I won’t.”

He struggled in your grip, and you bent down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. You shifted him off your lap, gripping your blade tight. “I’ll help her, alright? Please stay here. Please.”

Before he could protest, you began crawling out from under the table. You eased your way as out of sight as you could, following where Catelyn had been dragged. She was doing her best to fight off her captor, and was successful, if only for a moment. 

Soldier’s came to the man’s aid, holding her still as they brought her in front of Lord Frey’s table. 

“What shall we do with her, sire?”

Lord Frey pondered it a moment, smirking. Lady Catelyn fought with her life, scratching and kicking her captors, drawing blood. They groaned and faltered as she screamed, clawing to get free. 

Finally, Lord Frey pointed to her, before calling over more of his men. “Kill the bitch.”

You watched in horror as her hair was grabbed by a man from behind, her head tilted back. In the end, it took five men to hold her still, hardly able to contain her. A blade was passed to the closest man, and her throat was slit. She crumpled to the floor in a pool of her own blood, her eyes still open and staring right through you. 

You scrambled to get back to Robb, who had pushed himself up to his knees. Tears were freely falling down his face, and he let out a sound of anguish as you slid to his side, pulling him into you. 

“Don’t look,” you said, holding him tight. “Don’t look. Listen to me, Robb. We have to get out of here. We have to keep fighting, alright? Are you hearing me?”

He nodded into your shoulder, pulling his head up. Your heart ached as you saw the look on his face, nothing but pure agony. He willed himself to be strong, to be strong for you. He shelved his emotions, his face growing cold as he looked around. Roose Bolton had reentered the room, presumably looking for the two of you. Robb turned his attention back to you, grabbing your hand.

“I’m hearing you. Where do we go?”

You pointed to the corridor in the corner of the room, still left unmanned. “We have to go that way. It will lead deeper into the castle, but away from the camps outside. He will have sent most of his men outside to kill our armies.”

Robb seethed, his eyes filled with rage and sorrow. You shook your head, squeezing his hand. 

“Robb, listen to me. We will avenge them. All of them. And we will get revenge for your Mother. The North will always remember, and they will never forgive. We’ll gather our armies. We’ll fight, and we’ll win. We have been betrayed, but we have not lost. We will win, I promise you that…but only if we get out of here. It will mean nothing, and they will have died for nothing, if we don’t get out of here.”

Robb hurriedly nodded, placing your dagger back in your boot. He reached for a dead man’s sword, passing it to you. He unsheathed his own sword, crawling out from beneath the table. He reached for your hand, quickly pulling you up. 

“You know how to use it, and you must. Hold on to my coat. Stay behind me, and whatever you do, don’t let go.”

You nodded, holding onto him. You gripped the sword tight in your free hand, the other clutched tightly to Robb’s coat. You wildly looked around, waiting for an opening. The second one cleared, you yelled for him to go, quickly following after him.

Robb cut down every man in your path that night.

Every soldier that got within a few feet of you both, he cut down without hesitation. You clung to him, stabbing and slicing whatever came near you. Together, you made it out of the hall and into the corridor, where you took the lead. 

You led the pair of you out the back of the castle, while the front was in battle. Together, you fled into the night, trying your hardest not to listen to the sound of your men’s screams. 

—

That night, you fled on foot. Robb was injured, and couldn’t travel fast. Luckily, a few bands of men had escaped the Frey’s attack, and found you on the road with a few horses. You rode through the night all the way to the Vale, where you arrived in the early morning. 

Robb’s Aunt, the Lady Arryn, allowed you and your men into her home, as you seeked asylum. 

You trusted her well enough. After all, she was Catelyn’s sister. While you were not particularly close with either woman, a familiar name brought you comfort. Stark, Arryn, Tully, it was all name to a house you and Robb would be welcome home in. 

Robb was seen by the Maester, who bandaged him up as best he could. He told you to keep Robb off his feet as best you could for the next few days. It was best to lie low anyways. Although the Eyrie was loyal to the North, and would protect the man named King in the North, there was still the possibility of spies and betrayal. 

Just as you got Robb into bed in your chambers, a raven arrived from Riverrun. You promised him you’d be back shortly, and went into the throne room to hear Lady Arryn deliver the message.

The Blackfish, Catelyn’s uncle, had escaped the Twins and returned to his home to prepare his army for a potential battle with the Lannister army. He would hold his fort, and await for further instruction. Edmure Tully had been captured. Roose Bolton had betrayed the North. Tywin Lannister offered to name him Warden of the North, only if he was successful in assassinating you and Robb. Your deaths and the death of your army would end the war, allowing the Lannister’s to pull their army back to King’s Landing. 

Although the attempts on your life were unsuccessful, others weren’t. Nearly three quarters of the combined army who had followed you to the Twins were slaughtered there. The rest narrowly escaped with their lives, and assumedly were fleeing back home. It was confirmed that Lady Catelyn, Robb’s mother, had been murdered. Greywind, Robb’s direwolf, had been slain as well.

When you returned to your chambers, the hour still early, Robb had sat up in bed, groaning in pain. You sat down next to him, gently laying your hand on his arm, With tears in your eyes, you informed him of the betrayal, and the confirmed deaths on your side. 

“The Blackfish sent word. Roose Bolton and Walder Frey betrayed us, paid off by the Lannisters. Over half the Northern army is dead, the rest captured or seen fleeing. Greywind was put down…and your mother.”

His face crumbled, and he broke down into tears. He slumped into your lap, desperately clutching at the fabric of your dress. He gripped you tight, sobs muffled into your stomach. You fought your own tears, wrapping Robb tight in your arms.

He cried himself to sleep, nearly making himself sick.

—

The next morning, Robb didn’t speak of the night before. 

In the following days, he didn’t utter a word about it to you, only speaking of it to the Lord’s who still supported the North. Ravens came back and forth to the Eyrie, and only a seldom number of houses knew you and Robb had seeked shelter in the Vale.

Robb spent much of his time distracting himself, in the training yard with his young cousin Robyn, or out on horseback. Lords came and went, speaking of battle plans.

You didn’t know much about them. You weren’t there to hear them, and Robb wouldn’t tell you when you asked. 

Unlike Robb, you could hardly leave your chambers.

You were not a weak person. You weren’t raised to be easily frightened or overwhelmed. You had been taught better than that, your Grandmother made sure of it. But when you awoke the morning after you arrived at the Vale, and your husband was able to get up and leave your chambers, you were simply frozen in bed. Petrified and paranoid, afraid that anyone who made it past the guards had come to collect for the price on your head.

It tormented you for days. Slowly, you were able to leave your chambers, but you couldn’t go far. Robb kept to himself, finding it hard to even look at you. He did his duties, and returned to your chambers every night, but he wasn’t really there. 

One evening, Lady Arryn called everyone to dinner, in memory of her sister. The thought of leaving your chambers made you sick, but you didn’t have it in your heart to say no to either Robb or Lady Arryn. You were obliged to attend, and you and Robb got ready in silence. You still wore black, as a sign of mourning. 

Across the room, Robb finally called for you. He hadn’t spoken more than a few words to you in days. But he finally did, standing in front of the mirror. 

“Y/N?” He asked, turning to you. “Could you help me?”

You stood up from sitting on the edge of the bed, moving to stand beside him. “What is it?”

He slowly handed you an embroidered black ribbon, the edges frayed. You furrowed a brow, looking up at him. His face was solemn. 

“It was my mothers,” he said, and your face softened. “I want to wear it tonight, but I don’t know where to put it. My Aunt said she used to tie it in her hair.”

His voice caught at the end of his sentence, and you rested your hand on his shoulder, easing him. 

“As pretty as you would look with a ribbon in your hair,” you grinned, making Robb crack a small smile. “I expect we can think of something more practical. How about we cuff your sleeves? We can tie it around your wrist. Hmm?”

He nodded, letting out a shaky breath. He held out his hand for you to take, and you gently rolled his sleeve before securing the ribbon around his wrist. You pulled a ribbon from your own hair, tying it around his other wrist.

“There. Are we ready?”

He nodded, holding his arm out for you to take. “We are. Thank you, love.”

He guided the pair of you to dinner, a pit settled in both your stomachs. A cloud of sadness hung over both your heads, casting its shadow over the rest of your evening. During the meal, Lady Arryn told stories of her childhood with her sister, with tears in her eyes. You laughed together, remembering Catelyn. Robb told a few stories of his own. 

“You’ll remember this, darling, you had already come to stay with us,” he said, turning to look at you. “It was the day we found the direwolves. One for each of us. Mother griped and griped at Father when we returned with them, a pup under each arm. It took us days to get her to accept them. She called them beasts, always tripping with them underfoot while they followed us around. I think the first time she accepted them was when Y/N and I were out in the courtyard. Mother was on the balcony, watching us play with Rickon.”

Robb smiled as he spoke, reaching for your hand. “Rickon was running after Y/N, and he accidentally stepped on the back of her dress. The end of it ripped, and they both fell. Nobody was hurt, they were laughing by the time they hit the ground. But Greywind bounded over, sniffing around. Making sure they were alright.”

Robb paused, looking at his lap, taking a minute to pull himself together. 

You squeezed his hand, running your thumb over the back of his knuckles. “I’ll finish the story, love.”

“No, no,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m alright. I can do it. Anyway, I rushed over, making sure they were alright. Y/N was being dramatic, making a big fuss over her dress being ripped. She was trying to make Rickon laugh, he looked a little bewildered and guilty. The whole time, Greywind was standing over us all while we were sitting in the dirt. A guard came over, and he bent down to help Rickon and Y/N up. But Greywind, still only a small little thing, darted in front of them. All teeth and snarls, blocking the guard from getting to them. I doubt at that age he could have done much damage, but he sure was ready to try his best.”

Everyone chuckled, taking sips of their drinks around the table. You smiled at the memory, squeezing Robb’s hand again. He continued.

“I had to call Greywind off. Just like that, he was back at our sides, all content. As if he wasn’t ready to chew off that guard’s hand. He was so protective of us all, from the beginning. And he minded well. We got everyone up and headed to get cleaned up, and Mother whistled from the balcony. We all looked up, and she was grinning. ‘Bring me my son,’ she said. ‘And get that dog a bone.’ And she went inside. That was it.”

A tear streamed down Robb’s face, and he quickly wiped it away. “I’m really going to miss them.”

Lady Arryn nodded, wiping her own tears. “Me too, my boy. Me too.”

—

That evening after dinner, you guided Robb quietly back to your chambers. He didn’t say a word on the way back, only stopping to open the door for you. You both undressed, getting ready for bed. You had your back to him, only turning around once you had finished. When you finally turned around, your heart broke at the sight of him.

Robb stood in front of the mirror with his shirt off, pulling at the scars the two arrows left on his torso.

It was the first time Robb had left his shirt off long enough for you to see them in a while. The day he stopped needing you to help him dress, he kept them covered and out of your sight. But here he was, right before you. Vulnerable, and sad. 

You slowly walked over to him, laying your hand on his shoulder blade. His eyes met yours in the mirror, and his face crumbled once again. You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, resting your cheek in the middle of his back. He clutched at your arms, his head hung low. 

He turned around in your arms, bringing you into his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, pulling back to see his face. “Why are you apologizing? There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“There is!” He said, angrily wiping at his tears. “I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t protect any of them!”

“It is not your fault,” you reassured, gripping his arms.

“It is! You’re cowering around the castle, barely able to leave our chambers. I can barely look at you without being eaten alive with guilt. I should have seen it coming. But I was selfish, and I let my men pay the price for it. And Greywind…my Mother…”

You threw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you. He held you tightly, hiding his face in your neck. You could feel his tears land on your skin, and you felt a twinge in your heart.

“My sweet boy,” you said, moving to cradle his face in your palms. “You will not blame yourself. I won’t hear any more of it! It isn’t your fault, no more than it is mine. There was no way to see this coming. We did what we had to do, Robb. We couldn’t save them. But we could avenge them. And the only way to do that was ensuring we made it out alive. I’m so sorry we couldn’t do more.”

You gently ran your fingers along the scars on his torso, feeling him tense under your touch. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. 

“I won’t lie to you, Robb. I was scared. I’m still scared. But hear me, and hear me well. It is not, and it will never be your fault. There is nothing you could have done. Nothing. But we will avenge them all, I promise you that. They didn’t die for nothing.”

Robb covered his eyes with the heels of his hands, nearly gasping for breath as he cried. He clutched at his chest, his voice raw. “It hurts. Make it stop, please.”

He looked small like this. Just a boy, thrust into the nasty grip of war. It was tearing him apart. You gently walked him back until you reached the foot of the bed, easing him down onto it. He sat, and you stood between his legs, cradling his face.

“I know, my love. I know.”

—

After a while, the air had calmed. You were now in bed, laying facing each other. Robb was running a finger up and down your arm, keeping his eyes low.

His voice was quiet. “I miss them. I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing them.”

You nodded, settling into his chest. “That’s alright. I think you’ll always miss them. But it will get easier…it has to. They’ll always be with you.”

Your voice shook as you spoke. He protectively wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him. He pressed a kiss into your hair, holding you tight. It was quiet another moment, before he spoke again, whispering to you.

“You’re safe with me. You know that, right?”

You nodded, but he didn’t feel assured. You didn’t, either.

“I mean it. You never have to worry about your safety with me. I’ll protect you with my life if I have to. And I plan on living a long and happy life, with you by my side. You’re stuck with me, alright? My girl. My Queen.”

You let out a breathy laugh, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You closed your eyes to keep them from falling, pressing yourself further into Robb’s side.

“I believe you, my love. My King. We’ll be alright. I believe that, too.”

—

A/N - Hi! This one got a little long, sorry. I hope it was what you were looking for, and I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think!”

[leesielex]

Magic Awakens | CH 64: Jon Snow XVI

Summary: With Stannis at the Wall and the Lord Commander dead, the wars both North and South of the Wall have never been more dire. Jon must find a way to save as many as he can from the Others and bring the living together to fight against them. But will he be able to do that with so much animosity, prejudice, and strong personalities fighting for dominance and leadership? His dreams haunt him with death and destruction of those he loves and the Others taunt him even as he sleeps. (I still suck at summaries).

A Preview: They stood in the great hall, Jon watching the heated discussions from the back corner of the room. Stannis had summoned those nominated for Lord Commander to convene, as he grew increasingly frustrated each day that passed with no clear winner. Castle Black had become crowded and tense once the battle below the Wall was over.

The Free Folk that were rounded up were under guard by Stannis’ men in a camp just beyond the Wall. Mance was locked in the ice cells next to Tormund while he grieved for his wife, Dalla, who died during childbirth. Gilly now tended to him, raising him with her own.

Ygritte had escaped during the chaos with who knows how many, all scattered now and easy prey for the Others. They could only pray their people survived while they advocated for them to pass beyond the Wall.

Stannis had offered Robb a chance to take back Winterfell, even offering Val as his wife to unite the Wildlings to his cause and men. Robb had said his vows to the Night’s Watch before the weirwood, to the Old Gods, his father’s gods. To break such a vow would not win men of the North to his cause, and he doubted many would rally behind him after he led so many to their deaths. When they found out he still lived they would look upon him with contempt.

What kind of King of Winter did not die honorably beside his men? He told the King he named Jon his heir, and Jon swore no oaths. Stannis summoned him atop the Wall, escorted by his red priestess, Melisandre.

The woman was beautiful, no doubt, but her red eyes made him uneasy. He nearly jumped when her warm hand came to touch his cheek in the lift as they rode to the top of the Wall. She felt like fire, just as Dany did, but something was off about her. Her warmth did not bring him comfort; it did not make him feel whole, as Dany’s did.

Jon had refused the offer as well, though it was something he had dreamed of as a small boy, to be legitimized as a Stark and become Lord of Winterfell. But he wasn’t a Stark, had never been one, though his mother was. It felt disingenuous to take the name; like he would be spitting upon his parent’s tombs.

He sat upon his bed rereading the letters from his parents after he left Stannis. In them, he could see how proud his parents were that he was a Targaryen and of the name they had given him. He had read the letters so many times he had the words memorized. After many nights spent in his dreams with Dany, and many days spent immersed in the letters, he started to feel pride in his name and heritage.

His door burst open with a bang and had Jon scrambling to put the letters out of sight as he saw Robb stalk into his room. He barely had time to throw his furs over them before his brother was in front of him, his face red with anger.

“Why Jon? Why would you deny Stannis’ offer and not take back Winterfell for our house and family?”

“Robb, I can’t be Lord of Winterfell. You know this. That doesn’t mean I won’t fight to have it returned to House Stark,” Jon vowed calmly, trying to dispel the rage he felt rolling off his brother.

“They are boys, not yet ready to rule, and Bran a cripple at that. And Arya. I love her but a woman has never ruled the North and they would not take kindly to it. You know of my struggles to keep the stubborn and wild men of the north under control. Only you can do what needs to be done,” Robb pleaded.

Jon shook his head. “No, Bran ruled Winterfell in your stead. He was trained to do so. Rickon can be his heir, or Arya. I can advise or act as regent if absolutely necessary. But I’m not a Stark and I can not be named as such, nor can I rule the seat of power of the Stark’s.”

“Jon, you have always been a Stark. Our father’s blood runs through your veins, same as mine. He would want you to do this. I know he would.”

“I’m not, Robb. I have never been a Stark-”

“You have,” Robb yelled, getting in Jon’s face and grabbing his jerkin. Jon tried to remain calm though it became increasingly difficult. “You have to do this. You need to go back to Stannis and tell him you accept. Tell him you’ll be named as Lord of Winterfell, as Jon Stark. You’ve always been my brother so stop acting like a bastard and-”

At his brother’s words it was as if his last bit of control snapped. “I’m not a bastard. I was never a bastard. I’m not even your brother. Don’t fookin’ call me that again,” he told him as he pushed Robb off him.

At his brother’s look of shock and confusion, he realized what he let slip. He turned from his brother and ran his hand down his face as he walked towards the window, peering out. He heard his brother’s boots upon the stone floor as he approached, the only sound in the room.

Jon jumped at the hand laid upon his shoulder, but made no move to turn and face Robb. “Jon, I-” He felt the hand squeeze and heard a sigh leave Robb’s lips. “You are my brother, always. I apologize. I have made so many mistakes. It’s my fault we lost Winterfell and I pushed too hard for you to right my wrongs.”

“But I’m not,” Jon whispered, as he slowly turned to face his brother. They stood looking into each other’s eyes for a moment, trying to communicate without words. Jon wanted to tell his brother the truth but he feared what could happen if their conversation was overheard. Robb looked hurt and confused as he searched for answers.

There was one way Jon could show Robb the truth, without having to speak it, though he was reluctant to share them. They felt sacred somehow, private, but his brother deserved the truth. With a deep breath he walked to the bed, threw the covers away and picked up the letters and handed them to Robb.

“What are these? Some old parchments?” Robb asked, turning them over in his hands.

“Just read them. Father gave them to me when we visited Greywater Watch, before he left for King’s Landing and I traveled north to the Wall.”

Jon watched as Robb began to read, his face morphing from uncertainty, to disbelief, to anger and acceptance. Before finishing the first letter he stumbled over to the bed and collapsed upon it, his eyes never leaving the words written more than a decade ago. Jon sat down next to him and waited as he read the second, then the third, and the next and so on, never saying a word.

“Father lied to us, to mother, to everyone, my whole life. And you, you’ve known, all this time, and never said anything?” Robb accused, betrayal plain in his voice.

“To protect us all. For as long as the realm is at war, as long as a Lannister sits upon the Iron Throne,” Jon leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “Or a Baratheon finds safe quarter under the same roof as us, it isn’t safe for any to learn the truth. The more people who know the more likely it is to get out.”

Robb stood, handing the old time worn letters back to him. “I understand,” he replied tersely. “If you’ll excuse me.” He walked out of the room, never looking back.

Click here to read on AO3

[rise-my-angel]

Ned Stark never told Jon the truth for multiple reasons, a big one being about the extremely tenuous spread of information. If by telling Jon, there was ANY chance that that others may learn and it could reach Robert, he would not risk it.

There's clearly a reason after the war, Howland Reed returned to Greywater Watch to sit on a swamp bog lilypad in complete silence for twenty years.

Any chance of the wrong people learning this truth puts Jons life at immediate risk, something Ned won't allow. Protecting Jons life at the cost of some of his relationships with the ones he loves, is a sacrifice he has to make. One of his final thoughts is of guilt, wishing he could talk to Jon just one more time, implying he doesn't want to leave this world with his son thinking Ned raised him this way out of shame or spite.

There's also the fact that Ned is clearly a man with deep trauma. Most of the main older characters from Roberts Rebellion we meet are trapped at that age. Their traumas never really let them move passed that era and its clearly effected the men they've become. Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon, Jon Connington, Jaime Lannister, even Howland Reed. All characters who never really lived passed that war and its greatly effected their lives as older men.

It means that while it isn't fair, Ned does not discuss those days, Jons mother, or even Lyanna in general because he is still trapped in that room she died in. Ned is still metaphorically that young man, sat catatonic at his little sisters now dead bedside. Ned doesn't shut all that down from his family and Jon to just keep him in the dark, its Ned spending Jons entire lifetime with deepy unresolved trauma that he now has no idea how to process. Shutting down emotionally about his families death and not truly processing the greif isn't even singular to Ned. This is a trait we literally see with Jon later on once he thinks hes lost basically his entire family, not really processing those loses in a healthy manner.

So if shutting down from trama is a flaw you put towards Ned, then its Jons flaw too. They both are extremely closed off about greif.

Again, Ned in his final pov chapter feels shame when thinking of how he and Jon will part ways with each other before Ned can fix his wrongs. Ned doesn't want Jon to think he raised him this way with any ill intent, Ned raised Jon that way out of deeply rooted fear for losing his son. And Ned wants Jon to know that hes sorry if he ever made Jon feel anything less then that love.

Its easy to fall into Jons pov trap, where the thinks his father abaondoned him to the Wall because thats what he thought Jon deserved. But the books clearly explain that Ned always wanted Jon to stay in Winterfell with Robb. But between the turmoil of Roberts appearance, the mystery of Lysa accusing the Lannisters of murder, and then realizing Jon wants Benjen to convince his father to let him go and Catelyn pressuring Ned to make Jon go, he concedes. At the least, even if Jon hates him for it, if Jons at the Wall hes as far from Roberts wrath as he could get.

Ned lets him go, but Ned always wanted Jon to stay in Winterfell where he belongs. Ned never treated Jon like a pariah. Ned treated Jon better then most bastards ever get from their highborn families, but did not give too much special treatment in order to keep eyes off of him for his saftey. The less people who pay attention to Jon, the less chance anyone would ever put it together. And keeping Jon a bastard, means while he receives the stigma that comes from it, most people who Ned would be scared of Jon interacting with, will now ignore him. It hurts for Jon, but Ned again, knows its better then someone putting the truth together and winding up having Jons life at risk.

Even through what Jon doesn't understand about his father continues to bother him, Jon actively still pushes away every older male his life trying to position themselves as a psuedo father figure to him, because despite it all, Jon knows the only father he wants or ever needed, was Ned Stark.

Ned was not perfect in the manners which pertain to Jon, but to pretend as if Jons unobjective pov of insecurities and fears stemming from not having the context of his father keeping such a massive secret, is secretly some smoking gun proof that Ned was actually a bad father or deserves to have Jon discount being raised and loved by him his whole life?

It is completely disingenuous.